Dirty Talk
by MoonshoesWeasley
Summary: Hermione lets slip a curse word. Ron likes it and asks for more. Smutty oneshot.


With her curly hair piled atop her head and her tongue between her teeth, Hermione Granger was the picture of concentration. She was sat at the desk in the sitting room of her small flat, parchments and open books scattered all around her. Rain pattering on the windows and a quill scratching across paper were the only sounds in the room. She was working diligently on her latest proposal; a small amendment to an outdated law that, if accepted, would help provide legal protection to non-human magical creatures. It would be a huge break in her career and legitimize everything she felt like she'd been fighting for since her S.P.E.W. days.

Needless to say, she was a little bit tightly wound.

She was so deep in concentration that she didn't hear the sound of the fireplace lighting. She didn't even look up when the emerald flames disappeared and a tall, red-headed visitor stepped out. Ron Weasley took in the state of the room, then the state of his girlfriend, and shook his head. She was more stressed out than he'd ever seen her (and he'd helped her study for her NEWTs).

"Hey, 'Mione," he said softly. "Fancy a dinner break?"

It was at the sound of his voice that Hermione looked up. "Oh, Ron! Is it dinner time already?"

As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly. He patted it sheepishly and grinned. "Sounds like it, huh?"

Hermione looked at the work spread across her desk. "I've got too much going on here to be hungry. Can you find something in the kitchen?" A frown crossed Ron's face, and Hermione felt slightly guilty. "I'm sorry, I really am. I just am so close to finishing this! It's the language that makes it tricky; it has to be worded in such a specific way that they can't find a reason to deny it. I've got to close all the loopholes." She smiled at him, hoping that a smile was enough to soothe any hurt he might feel.

Thankfully, it seemed to work. Ron agreed to fend for himself and disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, a plate bearing a sandwich and crisps floated to the only clean spot on her desk. She turned around to offer her thanks and saw him settling in on the sofa behind her. _He likely has some studying to do for his Auror examinations_ , Hermione thought. She settled in for a night of companionable silence and hard work.

It didn't take long before Ron abandoned his studies and instead perused the latest issue of _Quidditch_ _Today_. Hermione, on the other hand, kept her head buried in her work. It was tedious and stressful, and several times she thought she might scream. She did a lot of grinding her palms into her eye sockets and tapping the point of her quill against a spare bit of parchment (good thing she'd put a self-healing charm on it ages ago). It was when she reached a rather frustrating section (refuting the ridiculous claim that non-human magical creatures didn't deserve a trial due to them being unable to understand charges laid against them) that she finally boiled over.

"This is...the way these creatures have been treated, Ron! It's ridiculous. It's absurd. It's...it's fucking shit, is what it is!" Ron's eyebrows immediately shot into the vicinity of his hairline in shock; he didn't think he'd _ever_ heard her curse. He recovered quickly, though, and moved to stand behind her. His large hands landed on her shoulders and set to work massaging out the kinks. She relaxed almost immediately and groaned as his thumbs kneaded at the back of her neck.

"'Mione. Take a break, why don't you? Come sit with me and let me work these knots out." She nodded and let him lead her to the sofa. He sat down with his back resting against one arm and drew Hermione to sit between his legs. She leaned forward and let him massage her back and shoulders and let the tension roll away. After a few moments his hands stilled and she felt him press a kiss to the side of her head. "Feel better? I can keep going."

Hermione shook her head. "No, thank you. That was wonderful, Ron." She lay against him, her back to his chest, and let him wrap his arms around her. "Sorry for my outburst. I just...I just want this so much. I get worried that I'll do all this work and it'll get rejected. _Again_. I couldn't take it if it did."

Ron kissed the side of her head again. "You can. And it might. You and I both know how bureaucrats are. And if that happens, you know I'll help you however I can. You'll get there, I know it. You're Hermione Granger. That's what you do."

She smiled softly. "Thanks, Ron."

"That's what I'm here for. Why don't you call it a night as far a work, hm?" Hermione nodded, knowing that he had the right idea. "Good. Then we can finally talk about those naughty words you let slip earlier."

Hermione groaned and covered her face with her hands. She could feel Ron's chest reverberate with laughter behind her. She felt a blush crawl up her neck and make its way to her face. "I was just so angry," she offered by way of explanation.

"It was completely justified, I think. You know I love a good curse word."

"Still. I'm sort of mortified."

"What? No! Don't be. To be honest with you, I rather liked it."

Hermione craned her neck to look at him. He waggled his eyebrows at her, a move that generally indicated lechery. She giggled. "Liked it? You'd like me to have a mouth like you, then?"

"Well, no. I don't think I could handle that. But I liked hearing you say the word 'fucking.' I wish you'd say it more."

She scoffed. "The situations I find myself in hardly call for it, Ronald."

His moved his hands to the hem of her t-shirt and she felt his long fingers curl underneath it. She closed her eyes at the sensation of his knuckles barely brushing against the skin of her stomach. Her breathing quickened and she felt the blush from earlier start to creep back up her neck (although for a different reason).

"I can think of a few situations where language like that would be more than called for." His lips were at her ear and she shivered as his breath made contact with her skin. Without much in the way of warning his hands pushed underneath her shirt and cupped her breasts. "Naughty naughty, Hermione. If I had known you didn't have anything on underneath your shirt, I would have done this sooner."

"Hush, Ron." She wanted to focus on the delicious feeling of his hands on her skin. His voice in his ear on top of that was almost too much.

"I won't. I like to talk, and I think you like to hear me. Is that right, 'Mione?" His thumbs grazed across her nipples. She moaned, but couldn't muster up a response. He chuckled lowly; it started in his chest and ended next to her ear and sent a bolt of lightning to directly between her legs. Ron's lips found her earlobe and he drew it into his mouth, biting gently. Hermione moaned again. "I thought so. I'd like to hear you talk, too. Tell me what you want me to do, Hermione."

It was a certainty that she was going to melt into a puddle, right there on the sofa. Ron was right, she _loved_ listening to the steady stream of words (most of them filthy) that came pouring out of his mouth every time they were intimate. She could never bring herself to say some of the things he said, though...could she?

The absence of Ron's hands on her breasts snapped her back to reality. He settled them against her stomach and she immediately missed the contact. She turned back to look at him and saw a devilish smile on his face. He leaned forward and kissed her; his tongue slid between her lips and tasted the moan that escaped from the back of her throat. He broke the kiss before she was ready and she felt the smile that crept back to his face. "Come on, 'Mione. Tell me what you want me to do to you. You can be as dirty as you like, even." He kissed her again, softly, and she felt his hands squeeze her abdomen.

"Ron..."

"Yes, that's me. What can I do for you?"

Hermione felt the blush start to creep up her neck again. She barely mustered up the courage to whisper: "Touch me."

"Ooh, gladly. Where?"

Hermione groaned in frustration. She _needed_ to be touched, _needed_ his hands on her again. She put her hands on his and pushed them up towards her breasts. "Here. Where you were before."

He humored her and she felt his large hands cover her breasts again. He squeezed gently and she hummed with pleasure. "You'll have to do better than that if you want any more than this, love," he whispered in her ear. His lips found the spot where her jaw met her neck and pressed a soft kiss there. Kisses there always seemed to drive her crazy. Sure enough, she gasped sharply and arched towards him. The swell of her breasts filled his hands and he playfully tweaked a nipple. "You like that, then? How else can I be of service?"

"Ron, please," Hermione whimpered.

"Please what?"

"Keep touching me. Don't stop."

"Just here, then? Or elsewhere?"

Hermione fidgeted and ground her bottom against him. She needed him to touch her _there_ ; to feel his fingers against her and inside her and teasing her most sensitive spot. "Ron...down there, please!" She was practically begging and knew that he was loving it. His hands drifted to the elastic waistband of her shorts and she felt his long fingers slide underneath. Her hips bucked towards his touch and his fingers made contact over the cotton of her underwear. It was almost too much. "Yes, please, there, Ron, please," she panted.

"Where? I'm sorry, I don't quite understand." His hand cupped her sex and she felt his palm press towards her throbbing center. Hermione heard his breath shudder in her ear as she ground against him, desperate for his touch. She was so turned on that she'd soaked through her panties and she knew he was becoming just as unraveled as she was. That was, until, he whispered in her ear: "Fuck, 'Mione, you're so wet. Is that for me?"

Hermione reached down and practically ripped her shorts and underwear off. She was beyond caring, or being embarrassed, or thinking about _anything_ other than how much she needed him to stop teasing and touch her already. She stretched an arm behind her to pull his mouth towards hers, and they met in a fierce kiss. It was greedy and sloppy and full of want and need and now. When they broke, both gasping for air, she kept her lips near his and practically panted: "I want your fingers inside me, Ron."

Ron groaned and immediately grabbed her by the waist and hauled her up so that her bottom was pressed firmly against his erection. She rested one arm against the back of the sofa and the other snaked behind Ron's head. One of his hands went to between her legs; two long fingers sliding against her slickness before finally _finally_ dipping inside her. She bucked towards him and her head fell back in pleasure.

He nipped at her neck as his fingers pumped in and out of her. She fully abandonded any remaining reservations and writhed atop him, moans and pants and "yesyesyesyes" escaping her mouth.

"Yes, baby, do you like that?" His voice in her ear sent shivers down her spine. "Tell me to keep going, Hermione, tell me what you want," he growled.

"Yes, Ron, keep going. It feels so good, you feel so good," she panted.

" _You_ feel good, you feel so fucking _good_ , Hermione, I love that you get so wet for me-"

"I love that you get so hard for me," she answered, punctuating her words by grinding against him.

"Bloody fucking hell," he ground out, pushing back against her.

"Ron, keep going, I'm so-I'm so close." Hermione's hips were snapping towards Ron's hand as quickly as his fingers were pounding into her. One of her own small hands had pushed her shirt up so that her breasts were exposed and she was furiously tweaking one pert nipple. The other hand, without her realizing it, had joined Ron's and her fingers were furiously working at her clit.

Ron, however, realized it. " _Fuck me_ that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, baby, yes, touch yourself and help me make you come, 'Mione." He kept up a steady stream of encouragement as she inched closer and closer, and then-

"Ron, _Ron_ , yes, I'm-" her entire body tensed as her orgasm rollicked through her. She trembled and then slumped against him, panting.

It was a few seconds before she realized that there was movement behind her. When she felt Ron's hands working at his fly, she lifted her hips and arched an eyebrow at how quickly he was able to kick his trousers and underwear off. She readjusted so that she was facing him and positioned herself so that his hard length slid against her wetness. She felt warm and heavy and satisfied and completely uninhibited, which gave her the courage to look him in the eyes and say:

"Fuck me, Ron."

He slid into her immediately and didn't bother with any pretense of going slowly. That was fine; she didn't want slow. She leaned forward, gripped the arm of the sofa with both hands, and pushed back against his thrusts. Her mouth was against his ear and she began telling him exactly what she wanted.

"Yes, Ron-harder, fuck me harder, you feel so good, you'll make me come again, I want you to make me come, Ron, make me come for you, fuck yes, yesyesyesyes _yes_ _Ron, yes_ -"

He exploded inside of her with a roar and she fell over the edge with him, shaking and trembling and mumbling against his skin; making sure he knew how good he made her feel and how he'd given her everything she'd asked for.

They lay there for a few moments, catching their breath. Hermione slowly came to the realization that she'd been absolutely filthy, and embarrassment stole over her. She buried her head into Ron's neck.

Ron laughed, knowing exactly what was going through her mind. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "'Mione, I can't tell you how amazing that was. You are amazing."

She turned to look at him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She kissed him, slowly and lazily and comfortably. When they broke, she had a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. "Well, you were pretty bloody amazing, too."

Ron gasped and looked slightly offended. "Hermione! Mind your language!"


End file.
